Before the King
by MissMandS
Summary: Fili and Kili commit what they believe is a harmless prank when they are children, removing the mask of one of their visitors. It sets off a chain of events that at the time they're too young to understand. Then they come of age. And they're expected to marry the very one who they shamed and live among his people in their sacred city. Werewolf au. Mpreg.
1. Chapter 1

Kili practically vibrates with excitement as the first one step into view. He's hidden in a hallway, behind some barrels to watch them go by. Fili is across from him, hidden behind the other barrel, looking just as thrilled at the sight.

"I hear that no one has ever seen their faces Fee and those who have, they've died." Kili whispers with childish glee. His older brother doesn't shush him to keep his voice down as the heavy tromping of the masked strangers boots drowns his voice out. The ones they talk about walk in their very halls now, draped in cloaks that vary in color and decoration. Their faces are hidden behind masks which too vary in color and decoration. Some are old and tarnished; others fine and polished with gems gleaming. Ones mask stops below their nose, giving way to a long, curled mustache which Kili gapes at.

"Do you think that one is a dwarf?" Kili asks. Fili stares at the masked stranger, his lips pursed into a thin line. There's no telling with them he wants to say. It's difficult to tell even the gender on some with their cloaks hiding nearly everything. The masks allow their eyes to be shown on some of them, others their mouths and apparently in some cases facial hair. Kili practically dances from foot to foot now, resisting the urge to run up and ask them if they are a dwarf. But Fili squashes that hope with five words.

"It can't be a dwarf." Kili turns towards him, trying in vain to stomp one of his feet. It's difficult to do he finds while crouching and barely gets a satisfactory smack against the stone floor.

"It could too be a dwarf!" An impish smile spreads across his brother's face as he peers around the barrel, looking towards the continuing line of strangers.

"Well then…Take ones mask off and see what it is. Go on Kee." The mustached one is gone but the line continues on so Kili takes a tentative step out from behind his barrel, looking first at Fili then at the line. None of them stray away or move out of step, their heads held up high and proud. He looks first at the sides and finds clasps on some of them; ties at the back of others and some what appeared to be locks. None look very comfortable and he winces with each one going by him until there's a little figure.

It has ties on the back of its mask and looks so very easy to remove. The figure is smaller than the others so Kili rushes forward, excitement bursting like fireworks in his stomach as he grabs their arm and yanks them from the line. He grabs the ties of the mask and tugs, grinning as they give way. The scream that the figure lets out is so sharp, so raw and unexpected that Kili rears back as the mask clatters to the ground. A small, round face stares at him with tears brimming in its eyes as it backs away from Kili.

The line has broken up now, bigger figures running towards them. It takes only a moment and then there's a protective circle around the small figure, cloaks wrapping his face and shielding him from view. They're speaking rapidly and furiously in a foreign tongue which he cannot understand as the mask is picked up. There are hands grabbing at the small figure, lifting them now and running away from Kili.

When he looks back on what happens next in his older years, it sends chills down his spine. To remember the ashen complexion of his mother and the way that Frerin took shallow, uneven breaths while Thorin clenched and unclenched his jaw. But at the time it means nothing when they grabbed both him and Fili, hands already reaching down to plant firm swats on their bottoms as their mother promised more severe punishment and Kili set to crying and Fili sniffling.

At the time it's only a punishment he thinks when Thorin takes him and Fili into the throne room where Balin and Dwalin stand. And when they won't smile at him and Fili, he thinks it's all a part of the punishment too. But then he's being turned around to face one of the largest men he's ever seen. He's enormous; tall and broad shouldered, long limbs that look like they could easily crush him. It doesn't help that he's gripping an ax almost as big as him, his eyes shifting around the throne room. Beside him are two masked people, one the mustached one from earlier and one a taller, unfamiliar figure dressed in a dark blue cloak.

"Bofur, son of Hofur, I understand that you will act as translator. Is that correct?" Thorin says and Kili's never heard his voice shake before until that moment. The mustached one doesn't speak but nods shallowly. He's barely completed his nod when the enormous man begins to talk again in that foreign tongue.

"He wants to know if these are the accused that removed one of our children's masks." Bofur says as the man talks. Thorin hesitates and then nods shallowly. And at the time the words mean nothing. They fly over his and Fili's head: crime, punishment, ultimate dishonor and execution. Thorin seems to grow paler and paler with each word, his knees buckling until he is backing into the throne.

"Might I suggest something?" Balin has never sounded so scared either at the word execution. And at the time the word marriage, alliances mean nothing to him. All he wants to do is find the small figure and apologize for all the fuss he caused. But then he's being ushered from the throne room with his brother and told to go to bed immediately. And still the words mean absolutely nothing to him; it is all a part of his punishment for his misbehaving and Fili being an accomplice.

* * *

This will be about ten chapters and contain Durincest and a threesome in later chapters with some mpreg.


	2. Chapter 2

Warning: mercy killing by slitting of someone's throat, implied scent marking.

* * *

There is no question of who the next king will be in the society of the werewolves whenever Belladonna Took becomes pregnant. She holds the most control, the most patience and the most grace compared to the others and has been deemed the queen a time or two before that. All eyes turn towards her, watching with each passing month as her stomach swells and grows. With each full moon she is put into a secure room and has guards placed outside. They remain there, shoulders stiff and eyes forward even as she screams and thrashes inside, her fingers digging into her stomach as her skin tears and her bones snap. But still they remain there, unyielding even as the werewolf lets out blood chilling howls. Within their walls she is watched over. Within their walls there are no masks and no restrictions.

Belladonna Took's labor begins one week before a full moon and with the worst screeches and roars any of them have ever heard; the sounds more suited to a forced transformation than a birth. Midwives gather in her room, all of them taking turns to press on her stomach and mutter things to each other over the roaring of Belladonna Took. The others all don their masks and leave, closing and locking the gates behind them as they all wander off to find themselves safe spots for their pending transformations.

And still the fierce roaring continues from Belladonna who growls and screeches at the midwives to not touch her and to leave. And still, they linger for as long as they can until finally their own pending transformations grow closer and closer and they are forced to leave. Belladonna Took is left alone to birth her child, on the day of the full moon. And finally in the empty room which reeks of tonics and herbs, behind locked gates she births a bloodied pointy eared child with a headful of sandy curls who screeches and squeals with his first breath.

When the others return the next morning, dirtied, bloodied and scratched with torn clothes they are greeted by the sight of Belladonna Took standing at the gate. She holds Bilbo in her arms, wrapped up in blankets. The child's cries had echoed long into the night, reaching into the surrounding areas where the others transformed. All of them heard but the cries had tapered off and then stopped completely; drowned out by the sound of howls, snarls, snapping teeth and growls. Now though the only sound all of them can hear is Bilbo's breathing, low quiet and steady. One by one the others kneel down and bow their heads, closing their eyes as Belladonna holds the baby out.

"Hail to my lord, Bilbo." Belladonna says and the others all repeat, over and over again.

* * *

The first time that Bilbo gets a lesson in trust he can barely walk. He's only just learned and is wobbling on shaky, unsure legs while his mother follows after him. Belladonna Took's face is free from the confines of its mask and she smiles as a beam of sunlight touches first Bilbo's feet and then her face.

"We wear our masks to protect our people. Other races will lead you astray and you as the prince of our people have the duty to protect our race." And at the time the words mean nothing to him. He is only a fauntling toddling around on his unsteady, unsure legs that he isn't quite sure how to use.

When he is old enough to talk for himself and to string sentences together the first question from his mouth is asking about the scars and injuries on everyone. Absolutely everyone in their society has scars, bruises, old injuries that had not healed properly or had healed only for that body part to become reinjured.

For Bofur only one side of his face turns up when he smiles, the other side of his face stuck in a permanent half frown from having his cheek and jaw smashed by an orc club his mother said. Bard's back is covered with scars from his shoulders, dipping all the way down towards his waist from fighting pits. Arwen's cheek has a scar from a scratch that had never healed properly and had been left raised and red. Bilbo, he is covered too from head to toe. There are scars buried beneath flesh, fur and fat; scars almost faded completely, raised and jagged. They run from his arms and legs, his waist to his back and his neck to his collar bone.

The first time he ever has to put another one down is when he has just come of age. Hofur lay on the ground, his transformation half complete. The others stand back and watch, all of them grimacing in pain and whispering under their breath. The dwarf's mask had been tossed off as soon as he entered through the gates and his body had shortly bucked over from pain moments later as screams tore from his mouth. None of them had to look closely to see that he was forcing it, that he was attempting to trick his body. With each snap of his bones he let out a louder screech, each second passing that his flesh tore he thrashed harder. Bilbo watched as his body jerked and thrashed on the ground, bones pulling from their sockets, breaking and snapping completely in half all because he was attempting to force a transformation. Belladonna comes to stand beside him, wincing as his jaw opens to let out a gut wrenching scream.

"It happens sometimes. Someone comes of age and prepares for their first transformation. One of the older ones, their bodies cannot handle going through another and sometimes they try to force it…" The only way to end it he knows from witnessing previous attempts is for someone else to end it or let the failed transformation to continue until finally the body gives out.

"Do it." The words come from Bofur who stares at him, his face turned down on both sides for once. One by one everyone clears away until finally the only ones left are Bilbo, Bofur and Hofur who has stopped his thrashing to pant and gasp for breaths. Bilbo comes to stand behind him, grabbing hold of his jaw with a bruising grip. Bofur comes to kneel in front of his father, smiling as he kneels down and grabs his hands.

"I love ye adad." And Hofur shakes his head as he wrenches it from Bilbo's grip, long enough to say: 'I never had any children'. Bofur's smile is a bitter one as he mutters an 'I know' and lets Bilbo grab his father's jaw again. It takes one quick swipe of the knife across his throat, of Bilbo holding him steady and then cleaning up his body for the funeral.

* * *

He does not sit on a throne though, despite being a king. He does not wear a crown, despite being a king. He does not wear furs or fine clothes, despite being a king. He performs the duties that are expected of him but still he does not transform. But still there is no questioning of whether or not he is the king until it comes time to talk about the marriage.

Bilbo sits on the floor of his room, surrounded by various books. Bofur sits nearby in one of the armchairs with Bard frowning down at his swelling stomach and pressing down; the two speaking too quietly to be heard. Nori wanders around the room, fingertips dancing across the spines of books and over the dresser, his fingers wandering towards the lock.

"I assumed we were to talk about my marriage not about to learn about Nori's lock picking skills. Who is going to pick up the princes?"

"You get two princes all to yourself? Oh my word Bilbo, I certainly hope you don't mind sharing. I might have a go at them, myself."

"We're going to be escorting the princes here you idiot. If you take a go at them, either of them I may just be tempted to rip your throat out." Bard says dryly as he fixes the wrinkles in Bofur's tunic. He lets his hands linger over the swell of Bofur's baby bump, sighing as he looks towards Bilbo.

"I will not allow Bofur to come with us. If he undergoes a transformation then I fear it will cause him to go into labor. This one is going to the last one between us as you know and this one has to cut out. I cannot have it be born on the road."

"I'm willing to go." Bofur's objections go unheard as Bard stands up, one hand still resting on his stomach.

"You're staying here with me. Besides I need help with my first…Transformation." The word is enough to silence the room. All of them look towards Bilbo, staring but saying nothing. Nori chews on the inside of his cheek for a long moment, looking towards Bofur and then back to Bilbo.

"You're long past due for your transformation. Most of us have ours when we come of age. You have been of age for over a year now and you've still yet to transform."

"And yet no one questions me." Bilbo says levelly, daring Nori to open his mouth. The star haired dwarf grins and raises his braided eyebrows; going as far as to extend one of his hands out towards Bilbo.

"Hail to my lord Bilbo, never will I stray from the path of the king. I bow only before you. I'll go with Bard to retrieve the princes for you." He lingers for a moment longer, staring at Bilbo and waiting for a response. When Bilbo remains motionless he gives him a halfhearted bow and walks out of the room, Bard trailing after him. The first thing Bofur does upon the door closing is sit up with a groan and stare at Bilbo.

"You haven't said much. How do you feel about all this? Ye're marrying not one but two princes, brothers no less who you've not seen since ye were just a wee lad."

"I don't have any feelings on it. They committed a crime which in our society is the ultimate dishonor and would normally warrant an execution. My mother had a soft spot and did not wish for them to be killed as did you Bofur."

"They weren't bad…Only children, Bilbo. And surely ye must have some sort of feelings about this?"

"I am scared for them. Our society has more rules and more laws than any others I know of. We are not just hobbits and dwarves. We are hobbits, dwarves, elves, humans, orcs and even Beorn, the one who began our society. For us it is not strange for races to cohabitate, to court and to have children together. But we bring in outsiders, ones who have never seen scars and injuries like ours and do not understand transformations. They try to stop transformations, try to help us and we scratch them, we attack them. They see our face is destroyed on one side and they scream; they panic. They pull our masks off, steal them to sell. I would rather see their throats slit and be done with it than find any sort of love in my heart for creatures who cannot understand us."

"All I ask from them at the end of the day is that they've contributed and can kneel before the king with no fear in their hearts." And though his stomach gets in the way and Bilbo orders him not to Bofur gets down from his chair and kneels as best as his swollen stomach allows him.

* * *

The day that Nori and Bard leave is the same day that Bilbo undergoes his first transformation. Bilbo and Bofur watch them leave; both of them hidden beneath their masks and sitting high; Bard atop his horse and Nori atop his pony as they lead more behind them. Bilbo swallows thickly, his skin sticky from sweat and his tunic clinging to him as the two moves further and further away. It's not long after they leave that Lindir comes to stand behind him, nose wrinkling as he gets a whiff of Bilbo's scent. Bilbo can smell Nori on him still, can smell the heavy musk of sex and scent marking. It churns his stomach and he grits his teeth as he grips the gate, looking between the two of them.

"It's starting." Lindir says quietly, not looking the last bit offended by the fact that Bilbo turns and snarls at him.

He is lead to the same spot where not only his mother but everyone has their first transformations. Bilbo sits in the middle of the bare room, allowing Lindir and Bofur to strip his clothes off him. They pay no mind to the snarls and snaps that he takes at them as they continue their work, Lindir folding his clothes and Bofur promising that the first transformation is not that bad—only for the first few seconds he says. They stay with him all day, taking turns between cleaning the room and watching over Bilbo until finally it begins to grow dark.

Lindir leaves first, looking apologetic as he runs a hand over Bilbo's sweaty back and promises that he'll be back first thing in the morning with food. Bofur stays longer, lingering in the doorway and watching Bilbo who breathes heavily, in and out over and over again.

"I can stay with you or outside the door…We are a pack." Bofur reminds him.

"But you are not my family, you know the rules Bofur." Part of him is not surprised whenever the hatted dwarf sits down, leaning back against the closed door with a snort. Neither bothers saying that their parents aren't here for the transformation, one dead and the other one more absent than present to witness. Bofur only gives him a thin lipped, anxious smile and presses his back further against the door.

Bilbo gives no real warning of when it begins to happen. There are no words telling him that it's coming. The only warning that Bofur gets is a gasp cut off as it turns into a gut wrenching scream with Bilbo hunching over. The screams are endless because he cannot stop them. The pain is white, hot and blinding; tearing the sounds from his throat over and over again and pulling them out of his mouth.

Beneath his screams he can feel rather than hear the sounds of his bones snapping as they're wrenched from their sockets. His skin is torn, shredded. When his knees are yanked from their sockets he falls to the ground with a roar, his ribs and his spinal cord beginning to bulge and contort. He's faintly aware of Bofur sitting against the door, nodding his head because he has seen this before. He has heard this before. And all Bilbo can think about is that this world is most definitely not for outsiders like the princes to witness things like this.

* * *

Originally meant for this to be from Fili's point of view but Bilbo wanted to have a voice. Not crazy about it. Oh well, it is what it is. There will also be some Sigrid/Bolg...Because fuck it. You'll see why when I do it.

And I start summer school tomorrow. Can you feel my anxiety?


End file.
